Idylls of the King
By
Alfred, Lord Tennyson
The Coming of Arthur

Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,Had one fair daughter, and none other child;And she was the fairest of all flesh on earth,Guinevere, and in her his one delight.

For many a petty king ere Arthur cameRuled in this isle, and ever waging warEach upon other, wasted all the land;And still from time to time the heathen hostSwarmed overseas, and harried what was left.And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,Wherein the beast was ever more and more,But man was less and less, till Arthur came.For first Aurelius lived and fought and died,And after him King Uther fought and died,But either failed to make the kingdom one.And after these King Arthur for a space,And through the puissance of his Table Round,Drew all their petty princedoms under him.Their king and head, and made a realm, and reigned.

And thus the land of Cameliard was waste,Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,And none or few to scare or chase the beast;So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bearCame night and day, and rooted in the fields,And wallowed in the gardens of the King.And ever and anon the wolf would stealThe children and devour, but now and then,Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teatTo human sucklings; and the children, housedIn her foul den, there at their meat would growl,And mock their foster mother on four feet,Till, straightened, they grew up to wolf-like men,Worse than the wolves. And King LeodogranGroaned for the Roman legions here again,And Caesar's eagle: then his brother king,Urien, assailed him: last a heathen horde,Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood,And on the spike that split the mother's heartSpitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,He knew not whither he should turn for aid.

But — for he heard of Arthur newly crowned,Though not without an uproar made by thoseWho cried, 'He is not Uther's son' — the KingSent to him, saying, 'Arise, and help us thou!For here between the man and beast we die.'

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,But heard the call, and came: and GuinevereStood by the castle walls to watch him pass;But since he neither wore on helm or shieldThe golden symbol of his kinglihood,But rode a simple knight among his knights,And many of these in richer arms than he,She saw him not, or marked not, if she saw,One among many, though his face was bare.But Arthur, looking downward as he past,Felt the light of her eyes into his lifeSmite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitchedHis tents beside the forest. Then he draveThe heathen; after, slew the beast, and felledThe forest, letting in the sun, and madeBroad pathways for the hunter and the knightAnd so returned.

For while he lingered there,A doubt that ever smouldered in the heartsOf those great Lords and Barons of his realmFlashed forth and into war: for most of these,Colleaguing with a score of petty kings,Made head against him, crying, 'Who is heThat he should rule us? who hath proven himKing Uther's son? for lo! we look at him,And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.This is the son of Gorlois, not the King;This is the son of Anton, not the King.'

And Arthur, passing thence to battle, feltTravail, and throes and agonies of the life,Desiring to be joined with Guinevere;And thinking as he rode, 'Her father saidThat there between the man and beast they die.Shall I not lift her from this land of beastsUp to my throne, and side by side with me?What happiness to reign a lonely king,Vext — O ye stars that shudder over me,O earth that soundest hollow under me,Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be joinedTo her that is the fairest under heaven,I seem as nothing in the mighty world,And cannot will my will, nor work my workWholly, nor make myself in mine own realmVictor and lord. But were I joined with her,Then might we live together as one life,And reigning with one will in everythingHave power on this dark land to lighten it,And power on this dead world to make it live.'

Thereafter — as he speaks who tells the tale — When Arthur reached a field-of-battle brightWith pitched pavilions of his foe, the worldWas all so clear about him, that he sawThe smallest rock far on the faintest hill,And even in high day the morning star.So when the King had set his banner broad,At once from either side, with trumpet-blast,And shouts, and clarions shrilling unto blood,The long-lanced battle let their horses run.And now the Barons and the kings prevailed,And now the King, as here and there that warWent swaying; but the Powers who walk the worldMade lightnings and great thunders over him,And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by main might,And mightier of his hands with every blow,And leading all his knighthood threw the kingsCarados, Urien, Cradlemont of Wales,Claudias, and Clariance of Northumberland,The King Brandagoras of Latangor,With Anguisant of Erin, Morganore,And Lot of Orkney. Then, before a voiceAs dreadful as the shout of one who seesTo one who sins, and deems himself aloneAnd all the world asleep, they swerved and brakeFlying, and Arthur called to stay the brandsThat hacked among the flyers, 'Ho! they yield!'So like a painted battle the war stoodSilenced, the living quiet as the dead,And in the heart of Arthur joy was lord.He laughed upon his warrior whom he lovedAnd honoured most. 'Thou dost not doubt me King,So well thine arm hath wrought for me today.''Sir and my liege,' he cried, 'the fire of GodDescends upon thee in the battle-field:I know thee for my King!' Whereat the two,For each had warded either in the fight,Sware on the field of death a deathless love.And Arthur said, 'Man's word is God in man:Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death.'

Then quickly from the foughten field he sentUlfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,His new-made knights, to King Leodogran,Saying, 'If I in aught have served thee well,Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife.'

Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heartDebating — 'How should I that am a king,However much he holp me at my need,Give my one daughter saving to a king,And a king's son?' — lifted his voice, and calledA hoary man, his chamberlain, to whomHe trusted all things, and of him requiredHis counsel: 'Knowest thou aught of Arthur's birth?'

Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said,'Sir King, there be but two old men that know:And each is twice as old as I; and oneIs Merlin, the wise man that ever servedKing Uther through his magic art; and oneIs Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys,Who taught him magic, but the scholar ranBefore the master, and so far, that Bleys,Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wroteAll things and whatsoever Merlin didIn one great annal-book, where after-yearsWill learn the secret of our Arthur's birth.'

To whom the King Leodogran replied,'O friend, had I been holpen half as wellBy this King Arthur as by thee today,Then beast and man had had their share of me:But summon here before us yet once moreUlfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere.'

Then, when they came before him, the King said,'I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl,And reason in the chase: but wherefore nowDo these your lords stir up the heat of war,Some calling Arthur born of Gorlois,Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves,Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son?'

And Ulfius and Brastias answered, 'Ay.'Then Bedivere, the first of all his knightsKnighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake — For bold in heart and act and word was he,Whenever slander breathed against the King —

'Sir, there be many rumours on this head:For there be those who hate him in their hearts,Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet,And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man:And there be those who deem him more than man,And dream he dropt from heaven: but my beliefIn all this matter — so ye care to learn — Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's timeThe prince and warrior Gorlois, he that heldTintagil castle by the Cornish sea,Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne:And daughters had she borne him, — one whereof,Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent,Hath ever like a loyal sister cleavedTo Arthur, — but a son she had not borne.And Uther cast upon her eyes of love:But she, a stainless wife to Gorlois,So loathed the bright dishonour of his love,That Gorlois and King Uther went to war:And overthrown was Gorlois and slain.Then Uther in his wrath and heat besiegedYgerne within Tintagil, where her men,Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls,Left her and fled, and Uther entered in,And there was none to call to but himself.So, compassed by the power of the King,Enforced was she to wed him in her tears,And with a shameful swiftness: afterward,Not many moons, King Uther died himself,Moaning and wailing for an heir to ruleAfter him, lest the realm should go to wrack.And that same night, the night of the new year,By reason of the bitterness and griefThat vext his mother, all before his timeWas Arthur born, and all as soon as bornDelivered at a secret postern-gateTo Merlin, to be holden far apartUntil his hour should come; because the lordsOf that fierce day were as the lords of this,Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the childPiecemeal among them, had they known; for eachBut sought to rule for his own self and hand,And many hated Uther for the sakeOf Gorlois. Wherefore Merlin took the child,And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knightAnd ancient friend of Uther; and his wifeNursed the young prince, and reared him with her own;And no man knew. And ever since the lordsHave foughten like wild beasts among themselves,So that the realm has gone to wrack: but now,This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come)Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall,Proclaiming, "Here is Uther's heir, your king,"A hundred voices cried, "Away with him!No king of ours! a son of Gorlois he,Or else the child of Anton, and no king,Or else baseborn." Yet Merlin through his craft,And while the people clamoured for a king,Had Arthur crowned; but after, the great lordsBanded, and so brake out in open war.'